This is my subtle reminder to those not so subtle children who make a habit of correcting others, and in the process annoying those children that they are attempting to correct.

Usually it works.

Usually.

Until I had a particularly bright child who finally decided to let me be in charge and finally allowed me to correct the children, but still felt the need to inform me of the many wrong doings that I was so obviously missing.

“Teacher Boss, Teacher Boss! She is budging in line”

“Teacher Boss, Teacher Boss…”

Maybe I should’ve been insulted. Instead I laughed.

Hey, if the name fits…

I think that it fits quite well, actually.

Only a Teacher Boss would use the line “Hey, don’t make me use my bossy voice” to a group of slightly out of control children to grab their attention, and have the children respond by sitting and listening.

A Teacher Boss knows when to use her bossy voice, and she can use it well.

Near the end of the school year my director purchased a nice storage box for our outdoor sand toys. We moved the sand toys from the depths of the storage shed out to our brand new box. We unearthed a few treasures, and some interesting pieces.

Such as a watering can that looks a little like this:

Except that our version is kind of creepy, in a beat up, 30-year-old sort of way. Since it is a watering can, there is a hole at the back of the head and the hat is the spout. It is one strange looking thing, and if I dwell on it too long I might have nightmares.

Anyway, when we cleaned out the toys I just didn’t have the heart to toss it out. Maybe I was having a little nostalgia for those strange, little and blue cartoon creatures at that particular moment, who knows.

Fast forward to the next school day.

Prince Valiant, an observant, verbal and imaginative student of mine was digging through the sand toys looking for something to play with. Suddenly he stopped, pointed at the Smurf head watering can, looked at me, and asked with a hint of disgust “What is that?!?”

I picked it up and replied that it was a Smurf. Prince Valiant’s precocious response was “I know it’s a Smurf.”

Then he paused to think a little, and firmly added “It’s a Smurf head!”

I laughed and asked him if he thought it was creepy as I dropped it back in the box.

He agreed that it was creepy, but then he looked at me quite seriously and asked in a very stern voice “Did you chop off that Smurf’s head and put it in that box?”

I reassured him that no, I did not chop off the Smurf’s head and put it in the toy box, while desperately trying not to laugh.

I was confident that he was satisfied with my answer, since he headed back to play in the sandbox.

My confidence did not last long because when he arrived at the sandbox he announced to his playmates that the teacher (me) had chopped off a Smurf’s head and put it in the toy box.

A few of the kids just gave him a look as if to say “Dude, what the heck is a Smurf?”, and the rest just went about their play .

And that my friends, is the Legend of the Smurf Head, according to Prince Valiant anyway.

It’s a new school year, and I’m trying to get to know all the new faces and personalities. Some students are more verbal than others, and provide more insight to who they really are.

I have an example for you.

I was reprimanding a child who wasn’t following the end of day safety rules, and this child’s response was “Stop talking to me! I’m visual.” This was said as a little hand came up to my face in the “talk to the hand” position. What?!? Did I hear this right? Did this child just tell me “I’m visual”?

I think someone is paying very close attention to parental conversations.

My response? “I’ll stop talking when you follow the rules.”

Mrs. V

Maybe I need to start carrying a stop sign in my back pocket for the visual people in my life.